Day 26 of my poemathon. Published on day 27 so I am still running behind and will need to come up with a second poem today to catch up (I say that every day). So there I was, late at night, tired after a long day and really needing to be abed. I'm trying to come up with a poem, or an ideas for a poem and nothing's happening; no ideas, no inspiration, nada. I'm staring at the blank page with an even blanker mind. What do you do when you are really stuck for a poem and your mind has become a poetry free zone?
Write a poem about it . . .
What do I do when the brain stops working
And my beloved Muse appears to be shirking,
Or with some other artist coquettishly flirting .
'Til I can almost hear the smug bastard smirking?
Burning the late oil, the fruitless hours passing
With impotent pen and the blank sheets mocking,
No pleasure to be had but her insouciant teasing
And the poet's abed alone 'til the morning.
Write a poem about it . . .
The Loneliness of the Long-Suffering Artist
by Steve CookWhat do I do when the brain stops working
And my beloved Muse appears to be shirking,
Or with some other artist coquettishly flirting .
'Til I can almost hear the smug bastard smirking?
Burning the late oil, the fruitless hours passing
With impotent pen and the blank sheets mocking,
No pleasure to be had but her insouciant teasing
And the poet's abed alone 'til the morning.
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